


i just love your puppy dog eyes

by jayquxck



Category: Clone High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gay, Human-Werewolf Interactions, M/M, i love them, it’s spooky season you’re welcome, soft boyfriends, they’re in love, this ship has like no fics written for it and that hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayquxck/pseuds/jayquxck
Summary: john likes to bring vincent gifts. vincent doesn’t know how to say no.
Relationships: JFK/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 267





	i just love your puppy dog eyes

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! this ship is SO CUTE and i love it so anyways   
> werewolf jfk x human van gogh because I CAN AND WILL   
> hope you enjoy!! ❤️

There’s a moose on the porch. 

It’s eight thirty in the morning, Vincent had just had his first cup of coffee and there is a dead moose, sprawled out, bleeding all over the porch.

“God, John…” Vincent grimaces, staring down at it in shock and disgust, not really sure how to react. He sure as hell couldn’t move it on his own, not even if he tried. He tried to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge against the moose’s weight and so after a few heavy pushes he gave up, turning around and going out through the back door. 

Although he hated it when John left animals, he liked to go hunting every other night and consistently thought of his boyfriend, and so he obviously wanted to bring him back something back to eat. 

John, however, neglected to ask, as he did every night, whether a) Vincent wanted moose for dinner which b) he didn’t and c) he wouldn’t eat, even if it were thoroughly cooked which d) it wouldn’t be. John liked to think of Vincent no matter what, even though Vincent had expressed how much he hated getting gifts, Kennedy kept bringing them. Why, just last week Vincent was greeted with six dead birds at the foot of their bed because, and he quotes from the wolf boy himself, “I thought you would want them.” 

With a gentle pat on the head and a soft smile, he politely told John that as much as he loves it when he brings him things, that he did not need to be hunted for, and that John didn’t have to worry about him while he was out. John, however, read this as “I hate every gift you’ve ever given me,” and so he was completely and utterly dejected for the entire day. Vincent then had to make it clear that he didn’t hate John’s gifts and that he just didn’t want them anymore. 

John completely missed the point, however, which is why there’s a giant moose on the front porch. 

The worst part is that Vincent doesn’t even like getting gifts in the first place; he’d only told Kennedy that he liked his gifts in an attempt to prevent him from jumping out their second story window due to despair. He’d never liked the thought that someone thought so highly of him that they’d spend money on him. He hated it even more when the gifts were free and consisted of a variety of dead animals for, as John explained with so much detail, “food.” 

“Hey John?” he stuck his head in the door, and although his voice was barely above a whisper he saw his boyfriend’s head pop up from the sofa. “Can you come here?” 

Kennedy stood and waltzed over to the front door with a razor sharp smile. As terrifying as it sounds, Vincent found his smile charming and endearing; he had long canines and sharp and jagged front teeth. It was cute in a sort of ugly way. “Hi, Vinnie,” John hums, and his eyes glaze over the moose as if it weren’t even there at all. 

There’s a long pause, and Vincent realizes that he has to spell it out. “Do you wanna help me move the moose from the porch?” he says, in a way where it’s not confrontational and straight to the point, and simple enough where John will get it in two seconds. 

His face drops. “But it’s a gift.” 

“Jack, I can’t open the door.” he motions to the door, which is open about two inches against the moose. “I love it, but... I need to open the door.”

There’s a moment of disappointed silence. Then, Jack lights up. “How about in the backyard?” 

Vincent feels his soul leave his body. If anyone hated saying no, it was him; he hates any kind of confrontation, as mentioned before, and so seeing that puppy dog look in his eyes and the excitement about his gift practically inhibited him from saying no. 

“Okay,” he says, and as soon as the last syllable leaves his mouth Jack’s hands are on its antlers and he’s dragging it down the porch stairs and onto the front lawn almost effortlessly. 

Vincent watches almost in awe as he pulls it down the driveway with almost no restraint, smiling almost wickedly from excitement. “Just be careful,” Vincent said to him from the deck. 

“I’m strong enough to get the moose into the backyard,” he said, a cocky tone to his voice, and Vincent internally rolled his eyes at how downright stupid his boyfriend can be, “I’ll be fine.” 

Feeding into his ego, Vincent smiles microscopically. “I know that. I just don’t want the neighbors to see you dragging a moose into the backyard.” 

John nods, albeit a little puzzled. “Got it.”

After about three or four minutes, the moose was securely in the backyard, and he came back around the front. As he made it to the porch, he wiped his hands on his shirt and smiled again, bending over and pressing a kiss to Vincent’s forehead. 

Vincent smiled now, a real, full smile, and looked up at him. “Okay. No more moose, alright?” 

John’s face sort of fell, but he nodded. “Got it. No more moose.” 

Vincent woke up to a deer on the walkway the next morning.


End file.
